A Few Words With My Baby
I spoke with my baby tonight.
“Hey Mama,” he said quietly into the phone.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m doing my homework. “
“Good job Sugarbear.”
“I’m writing sentences.”
“SENTENCES!” I squealed. “Oh my gosh baby thats great!”
He wasn’t enthused. “Tomorrow I have to write a paragraph,” he said sadly.
“A PARAGRAPH!” I screamed. “Oh yeah! Baby that’s great! A whole paragraph! Aww man! Soon it’s gonna be on! First you’ll get the sentences down, then you’ll get the paragraphs down cuz you’re so smart I know you’re gonna catch on quickly. Then after that you can tell a story and we can even turn it into a book. You can illustrate. We can mass produce it!”
My Sugarbear was silent. “What about if I don’t want to be a, what are you again?”
I frowned. “I’m a journalist baby.”
“What if I don’t want to be a journalist?”
“Then it’s okay. Each of us has a special gift from God and in time you’ll see what God made you for. He will tell you.”
“Mama, how are you able to be a journalist and still work at the bar?”
“Who told you I worked at a bar?”
“You said it.”
“No, I said I worked at a restaurant. A RESTAURANT, boy.”
“Oh. Well how can you do both?”
“Well, when you have a day off you have to go, try to get the interview and write the story because on the other days you are really tired from work.”
“Does it pay a lot?”
“No. Not unless you make it big.”
“Can you help me make a sentence Mama? The word is agriculture.”
“Sure baby. Where’s your brother?”
“He’s sleeping,” My 6 year old says.
Oh, he isn’t feeling well. Let me talk to your Daddy.”
Baby Daddy comes to the phone.
“Yeah.” he says in a “what do you want” tone.
“How’s my baby? Did he throw up today?”
“No.”
“Did he go to school?”
“Yes.”
“Are you gonna give him love?”
“Huh?”
“My baby is sick. Are you going to give him hugs and kisses and cuddle with him and rub his tummy?”
Silence.
He chuckles. “Uh no. The best he’s going to get is a night’s sleep in the bed with me.”
“Awwww….” I say. “I guess that will work.” He’s such a MAN…
My baby is sick! He needs me. But I’m here…in Houston.
Floating…
I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It’s breaking me. But where do I go? Where’s home? I’ll be in the same situation just with a more expensive cost of living.
Think. Think. Think.
What can you do that will allow you to take care of your boys and to NOT be stifled in the workplace?
What could you do that would have longevity and provide stability?
I don’t have any answers…